An Adolescence of Amalgamation
by Smurfinablender
Summary: A 28-year-Old Kira Manning looks back on the events of her life that proved that she was anything but normal.
1. Chapter 1

**An Adolescence of Amalgamation**

_**Chapter 1**_

Twenty-eight, an inconsequential age to anyone else. No special privileges, no senior discounts, no big company birthday. Twenty-eight is simply another year older. Yet, to me, to those closest to me, twenty-eight is an age of catalyst. For a few, twenty-eight was their final birthday. My twenty-eighth birthday was twelve days ago. I have a history, a legacy to follow, of those before me. Yet when they all turned twenty-eight, I turned seven.

Studies show that the average adult only remembers experiences from their childhood, pre-puberty, in glimpses and bits. I've never had that problem. I remember the tree that swayed outside my bedroom window, vividly. I remember seeing my mom for the first time in a year outside my school, arms stretched to greet me. I remember days in front of the piano with my Uncle Felix and how terrible he was. I remember these all clearly, and yet still I have the human desire to write it down, to make a note of my experiences, because my story isn't normal, I'm not normal. And that's ok.

* * *

She walked in the door with a knit-cap on and a masculine gait. She smiled at me and I tilted my head. Was my memory playing tricks on me? Could my mom be back, and feel so very differently to me? Yet there she was, with Uncle Felix, whispering under her breath to Mrs. S.

Her eyes flashed to me again and a sympathetic smile crossed her face. Her eyelashes fluttered and her posture straightened for a second before she corrected herself. My chest pained. I was confused. I felt like hugging her tightly, but not like a daughter to her mother. This woman, with the same step, and same voice as my mother, felt inexplicably different.

"What, you shy now or somethin'?" She said.

I remembered a gun range, I remembered sitting on a rock and sharing a glass of wine. I remembered laughing until my side hurt. Yet, I had never done those things. I remembered a train.

"I'm sorry we haven't seen each other in a long time, but... we can change all that... see each other all the time" my false mother continued.

"You're not my mother" I told her.

Confusion shot across her face.

"Silly... Of course I'm your mum. Who else would I be?"

A friend. A companion. Part of me.

"Where's my mom" I demanded.

"She couldn't be here right now," she said with a sigh, "my name is Alison..."

Alison. That name held weight to me, that name felt like it should be important, like I should know it; I rolled it over my tongue silently in my mouth.

"Your mother is doing something very brave..." She said. I didn't catch all of it, but something deep in me trusted her, knowing she was right, knowing she would never lie to me. "...It's important that you keep this a secret..."

Secrets. I felt I had kept secrets with her before. I had trusted her, and she me. A deep feeling of nostalgia overcame me. I remembered secrets that caused stress. I remembered secrets overwrought in pain. Yet I also remembered secrets filled with laughter and joy. I remembered confiding in her.

I kept up the game, referring to her as "mommy" in front of Mrs. S. I wasn't sure why I felt the desire to trust Alison. I couldn't put my finger on the sensation of complete and utter trust in this woman.

She gave me a smile and I returned it with a look of knowing. I had not met Auntie Alison before and yet I missed that smile, and I was glad to have it back.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

What is a soul? Religion says it is a spiritual presence that resides in a human form until death and then ascends to a greater plain, is reborn, or reaches tranquility. Science treats the "soul" like a metaphorical embodiment of identity, simply an idea that we give form, through words. If you take the religious belief, you believe that a soul separates us from animals; it is holy and a sliver of God himself.

Yet, if someone is created not from a god but from humanity, where is their soul? Do they have a soul? Could they share a soul? My Aunt Helena once told me that God gives all a soul, even the abominations. My Aunt Cosima would say that lack of empirical proof, while not disproving the idea of a soul, means that it can't be confirmed. My Aunt Aryanna tells me that if clones have a soul, they will be damned to purgatory never allowed into the afterlife. I don't agree with her, yet I wonder if perhaps the idea of purgatory holds some merit, or explanation.

* * *

I looked through bushes. It was her. I knew it. I had followed her here, despite her strange behavior the last few days. I approached her and got in the back of her car. But something was wrong. I saw a flash.

I woke up suddenly, screaming. My hair plastered my face in sweat. I cried. The door opened and my mother ran in. Scooping me in her arms, she hugged me. I looked over her shoulder and saw my father in the doorway, smiling. My mom tells me to call him Cal, but it feels weird, he's been in my life over a year. I call him dad defiantly.

"Shh-shhh, Monkey," she whispered to me, "It's ok, it's going to be fine." She looked back at my father with concern. She thought I wouldn't catch the silent conversation between them, but I understood. Something was wrong.

"Es get mir gut mama, nur ein alptraum" I mumbled. My mother pulled me back from her chest.

"What did you say, Monkey?" She said, worried.

"I'm fine, mommy, it was just a nightmare." I repeated in English. They picked back up their silent conversation.

"Kira, what did you dream about?" She asked.

"I don't remember," I lied, rubbing my forehead, "I just remember it was scary."

It wasn't easy to forget. The same dream had been haunting me for a month.

Dad came in and knelt beside my bed, "You've been having these a lot." he said as he rubbed my shoulder. He smelled of pine trees and a campfire. Not in a bad way, but the way your jeans smell after a night with school friends roasting marshmallows, or the smell of walking through a park. A memory of a camping trip, even though you knew she hated camping. He smelled like home.

A smile crossed my face, "I'm ok, I promise, I just need some water." He looked at my mom for confirmation and walked from the room to fetch me a drink.

"Are you sure you don't remember anything about the dream?" Mom asked softly.

Coughing, running, blood, fear, not-Beth.

"No, I'm sorry" I reassured.

"No, no, it's ok," she said as she pulled the covers over me again, "just go back to sleep."

I smiled back at her as dad came back in the room. His hand touched her shoulder and she looked up at him.

"Did you ever get the car clean?" I asked absently, eyes becoming heavy.

"What car?" My mother voice said in the dark.

"The black one," I mumbled, drifting off, "so much red inside, so much glass."

Either she didn't respond or I dossed through her words. Fighting sleep, I opened my eyes to see their silhouettes, still at my door. I was fine as long as I was here, as long as I was with my family.

I forgot about the drink I had requested. I curled up and wrapped myself in the blanket. I closed my eyes, knowing that I'd quickly fall asleep. As soon as this horrible headache would subside.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

I've grown calloused to shock or surprise. For my mother and aunts, they found themselves in their late twenties and their entire lives were turned upside-down. For me, the most normal aspect of life is the times when it makes the least sense. In fact, the wilder things got as I aged, the more the chaos seemed to become a security blanket.

I didn't have the same victories and life stages growing up as other little girls. I was never in Girl Guides, I never learned how to swim; I was homeschooled through most of my adolescence and never attended a school dance. For me, my moments of development were crossing the country in a camper, learning to shoot a gun, and coming to the understanding of who I was, and what I was. It was at age eleven I started to understand that I had something more than just a good intuition, that I WAS something more.

* * *

It was supposed to all be over.

The Dyad Group had collapsed; mom and dad finally were smiling again. It had been almost five years since my mom met me outside my school, and since then I'd never fully gotten used to having her around. There was always something, but now; we were supposed to be a family.

The Castor project, which had helped us take down Dyad, had in turn asserted their control over my mother and aunts as soon as Dyad was done. They claimed ownership over people.

We were on the run again. We never really stopped.

We were leaving Toronto aboard something called a "fast ferry," across the lake to Rochester. A speedboat was spotted to the starboard side and I could already tell who was aboard. Two Castor clones in military fatigues. They didn't take kindly to us freeing Helena.

"GET KIRA BELOW DECK!" my mother yelled.

"What you think I'm doing?" My uncle Felix barked back.

"Just do it, Fee" My father demanded.

Felix rolled his eyes "Oi, watch yourself mountain man!"

The boat was hit.

I don't know what hit us, all I know is the boat lurched and sent me over the side. I hit the icy-cold water with a splash and sank. I could hear muffled screams above the surface, but I couldn't respond. I couldn't even swim. I took in mouthfuls of water, rays of light shining through the void around me. Then I saw her.

She had the face of my mom.

The water around me began to get darker as I sank.

Her smile was something different, brighter, and full of life.

My chest began to burn with lack of breath.

She walked the side of a pool blowing a whistle; she sat next to a little girl and gave her advice on her form.

I moved my arms in alien motions, beneath the surface.

She took a picture with a group of kids holding-high a trophy. She smiled.

I started to rise through the water, shaking my head side-to-side violently in an attempt to fight for air.

She looked in a girl's eye, who looked like me, and whispered "swim."

My head burst above the surface and I gasped in air. My vision cleared.

Her smile faded.

I swam to the boat, but met my dad halfway, who had jumped in after me. I swam with him as he helped me to the boat and my uncle pulled me up. As I came over the deck I coughed up water, breathing deeply. I looked for trouble.

The captain sat on the side of the boat; gun in hand, unleashing shots. I ran to my mom, and as I looked over the other side, the boat with the male-clones pulled away, one of the men nursing a wound in his gut.

"I thought you said she couldn't swim?" My father questioned my mom.

"What? She can't, I'm thankful you got to her in time."

"I didn't, she came swimming to me like she was an Olympic athlete or something."

My mom looked relieved, "Kira, when did you learn to swim?"

"Auntie Jennifer taught me," I said. Her face darkened, "but, that's impossible," I mused, "isn't it?"

I saw a smile faded, hair gone, clinching to sheets. I saw her breath and then never again. I saw her hugging some of my other aunts. Aunts I never met, yet instantly knew. I knew she was with me, under the surface, ready to help should I need her.

I knew they were all with me. Somehow, I knew they always had been.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4 **_

Loss and grief are hard on a normal person. There is denial and anger. There is bargaining and depression. There is acceptance. For many, the timeline for this is long, and drawn out. It can take years to accept loss. For a normal person.

The amount of loss in our lives has been compounded to the point that the stages of grief can be gone-through in a week. The pain and sorrow stuffed deep down inside. We all had to become stronger.

Mrs. S was first, when I was ten. My mother never told me what happened. Only that she was gone. She never spoke of her again but my Uncle Felix wasn't short on stories of a powerful woman, and how I had a part of her inside me. I laughed at that, because I was pretty sure she was one of the few whom I didn't have a part of inside me.

I witnessed Uncle Donnie's sacrifice. He died protecting me when I was thirteen; he took a bullet for me. As he died in Aunt Alison's arms, I overheard her telling him how much she loved him. He held her and whispered, "I'm sorry I never made you smile like she did" and then he drifted off. I remember being happy she had someone, and devastated that she had to lose someone she loved again.

But the hardest came at sixteen.

* * *

They had a weakness.

After years of fighting the military, we had found a way to take out Project Castor. We were by no means military trained. It was my mother, father, Felix, Art, Helena, and Mark who had joined our cause after the Castor-clones killed his wife Gracie. Aunt Cosima and Aunt Delphine were forced into hiding in Europe, and we hadn't seen them for a year. Alison and her kids were in a cabin in north Nova Scotia until the plan finished.

I wasn't supposed to be there.

But I was, I could shoot a gun, and I was tired of being protected. Shooting a gun came just as naturally to me as swimming had. Aunt Cosima hypothesized that I was some kind of "container" for the souls of lost clones. Well she didn't call them souls, she said "cognitive identities," but my Aunt Helena lovingly calls me "little soul catcher." I don't mind. It gives me purpose. It connects me to them.

Art found the small, unmarked military outpost in eastern Saskatchewan. It guarded the final hard copies of the Castor research. My father had already hacked and wiped the digital ones. I was relegated to keeping the getaway vehicle running with Uncle Felix. It was a Jeep SUV with a cb radio installed to talk through the mission. We could hear what they were doing and went through blueprints to guide them.

"Fee, right or left?" My mother demanded over the radio.

"Left. No, no. Bollocks, I've got this upside down."

I pushed him to the side, "Take a right and then when it dead ends, turn to the left. Be careful though, you're coming up on the comm room."

Felix rolled his eyes playfully at me.

"Radio silence, Sarah" Art barked over the static, "at least until you take out the comm room."

Art was used to taking charge. I remembered years ago as he bullied me into shape. Well not me, but Beth. I had come to the conclusion that I shared memories with clones that had passed. It was the only way to explain why I knew things I shouldn't. They never spoke to me, but every once in a while an alien memory would pop into my head. I used to reject them, shake them off. But now I relied on them heavily.

The plan went well, at least the main aspects. My mom shut down the communications room and was supposed to get out. Helena sniped the watchtower guards with my father as her spotter, while Art and Mark breached the complex to set the bomb. Art took a bullet to the arm, but all seemed to go smoothly, until they all returned to bolt.

My mother wasn't there.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"She should have been the first back." Art said through painful wheezes.

"You wrote the plan big boy," Felix retorted, "so looks like you get to go find her."

The radio shot static. "Ki...Kira."

I was silent.

"Kira, I don't... have much time."

We raced to the receiver.

"Where are you Sarah, I'm coming in!" my father yelled.

"Cal... stop. Art, is the bomb set?" She coughed.

My heart halted.

"It's done," he said soberly.

"We save you, Seestra?" Helena pleaded.

"No," my mother said softly, "This...ends here...let...let me speak to Kira."

"We need to move, it's going off soon," Mark noted.

"I won't leave her!" I said through tears, welling in the corner of my eyes.

"We have no choice" Mark replied.

Felix betrayed me. He pulled me into the Jeep and the rest piled in. Mark and Helena hopped in a pick-up behind us. Art, injured as he was, took the wheel anyway. He always was stubborn. The lurch of the SUV set me off.

"Turn around! Turn around!" I screamed.

"Kira..." My mom's hushed voice came over the radio.

I raced to the radio, "Stop it. I will not say goodbye."

"Kira, I'm bleeding out and we're kilometers away from anywhere to help. Bomb or not, it's too late."

"No. Mark knows some medicine!"

My dad placed his arm around me silently.

"You've become everything I've wished for you. You are stronger than all of us, you have parts of all of us, and you'll have a part of me."

I was silent. I couldn't respond. I just cried. I cried harder than I ever had before, cried long breathless tears.

"Monkey?" She pleaded, "I love-" she was silent.

I looked up at the radio as a bright light shot through the window. I turned my head to look outside and after a few seconds, heard the blast. I felt it deep within me.

"NO! I..." I trailed off. Felix turned away, clinching his fists. My father held me close. Art was silent. I could still feel the vibrations.

"I didn't even say goodbye." I forced through sobs.

All was silent.

"You never needed to say goodbye," my mother's voice rang in my head, "I'll be with you always."

I froze. I couldn't tell if I was delirious with grief. I had received flashes of memories, I had felt their emotions, I had learned skills but I had never had one of them talk to me. Never heard a voice directly.

"You will always be my Monkey," she said in my mind, "and I will always be here, watching you grow, and loving you more in death than I could have in life."

I hugged my father and whispered into his flannel shirt.

"I love you too mom. I love you too."


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

It isn't constant.

There are no weird moments of my mother intruding on private aspects of my life. None of my other aunts had spoken to me. Just her. There are no specific moments, I can't ask to talk to her; I don't understand how it works. She just comes in, and sometimes it's just to check in, and other times it's long-winded conversations filled with laughter and jokes. She's my best friend, even when I don't speak to her for months. Knowing she is with me is enough.

It all got quiet after Saskatchewan. Helena and Mark surprised everyone by getting married. They did it quickly at the courthouse, neither wanting to be in a church for long. My cousin came a year later. Helena is one of the most caring mothers I know. Art buried himself in a bottle. He died when I was twenty-four of a heart attack. Uncle Felix handled my mother's death like he handles most heartache, by getting overly involved in Auntie Alison's life. He moved in a couple years after Saskatchewan into an apartment above the garage. Alison long ago gave up explaining Fee's "guests" to the neighbors.

I live with my dad in a cabin in a location I'd rather not put to paper. He keeps telling me to move out, be on my own, but we live a simple life. We have chickens. It was my request. Mom seems to speak to me most when I'm out feeding the chickens. I don't know why, but I'm grateful.

We go to Auntie Alison's for dinner every Saturday.

* * *

"How old was it this year?" Alison asked.

"Twenty-eight." I replied

"Well, we'll have to make this dinner a big one"

"It's just twenty-eight, nothing special, and besides, it was two weeks ago" I dismissed.

"Non!" My Aunt Delphine interrupted. "You are so young, so full of life! Think of all the exciting things that can happen at twenty-eight!"

"She's right you know," my Aunt Cosima added, "You could get swept off your feet by a beautiful blonde." She winked at me and nudged Delphine.

Delphine blushed, "Were you really twenty-eight? It seems like so long ago."

"Woah, Not THAT long ago!" Cosima came back with a playful glare.

"No fighting at the table you two!" Aunt Alison called from the kitchen. She was preparing dinner. She never let anyone else cook, not since Helena brought over "Goldfish Surprise" a couple years back.

"We're not!" Cosima yelled back with a knowing grin, "We're flirting!"

"Definitely none of that." Alison said as she brought in a casserole.

Dad and Felix walked in the door mid-conversation. Grey had begun to creep from the sides of dad's hair to speckle his beard. Felix still had the hair of a 20 year-old and would fight anyone who questioned the authenticity of it.

"Is this one staying a while?" My dad asked.

"Oi, no one 'stays a while' with me, can't tie me down." Uncle Felix said, glancing at me sideways with a smirk.

"Let him sow his oats Cal," Cosima added, "some people can't handle just one lover."

"Some can't handle the one they have!" Delphine spat back before kissing her.

"Is anyone going to let Kira talk on her own birthday?" Alison said.

"No worries, Auntie Alison, you know me, I like to observe." I said.

"Yes, I know that. Just like Bet-" she said stopping herself mid-word. Her face blushed and she turned away. My dad noticed the awkwardness and spoke up.

"It was simply a belt-issue on the van, Ali. I tightened it and it should be fine. If you hear any other sounds just let me know. Felix is starting to get pretty good at helping, maybe next time he could take care of it."

"And miss seeing you acting all lumberjack and masculine? No, no, I only help out for the view big boy." I held in a giggle at Felix's words.

The night went on much like this with jabs and jokes. Oscar and Gemma showed up later, and the eight of us sat around a table eating Alison's amazing cooking. As I looked around at those who I loved most, I knew I would do anything for them. Twenty-eight was an important year in their lives, and maybe for me it would just be a random year, or maybe it would be something big, but I was happy to have these small moments where we all came together for a meal. I was happy to have a family.

"Happy birthday, Monkey" my mom said as Alison brought the birthday cake out. Every time she entered my mind it sent shivers down my back and tears to the corner of my eyes.

"Thank you, mom." I whispered back.

"Happy birthday." Beth said, sending me stiff in my chair.

Then they all spoke-up: Katja, Jennifer, Aryanna, all of them, for the first time spoke. For the first time after having a part of them, I heard their voices, their accents. Each was unique and beautiful and I felt... whole.

I blew out the candles, not needing to make a wish, because all of my wishes were already answered.

Maybe twenty-eight would be a quiet year. But something inside me said it wouldn't. I don't know what really, let's just call it: "good intuition."


End file.
